


A Woman's Touch

by theatremusicbookworm



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-10 20:48:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2039595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theatremusicbookworm/pseuds/theatremusicbookworm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I know you probably do not feel the same of me… I also know that you’ve probably never even been kissed, even by a man, but Brienne,” she pulled her chin up, so that their eyes met. “I will not do anything you do not wish of me. If you ask me to leave now I will do so without question.” Brienne’s breath wavered, her brilliant blue eyes searching the young queen’s. “But if you wish for attention… a woman’s touch…  you need only reach out and take it.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to write Marg/Bri fic for a while... I only expected this to be a oneshot... but it's grown...

Raucous laughter and singing of the drunken men of Renly’s camp encircled her tent. He’d been kind and incredibly accommodating in allowing her, her own private encampment, slightly separated from the rest… just as she was from the rest of the men. Brienne fell back on her bedroll, feeling more defeated than a champion. And yet… her prize hung before her. She’d hung her rainbow cloak from a hook and admired it from where she lay. She’d won. She’d proven herself, not only to Renly, but to his men. Heaving a heavy sigh she sat up once more, wincing as her ill-fitting armor chafed at her shoulder. She hadn’t taken it off in days, for fear of unwelcome advances from the camp of rowdy men. But now, as she sat alone in her tent, tired and bruised, she decided she would allow her weary bones a chance to breath. Stiffly, she pushed herself up and began the task of taking off her heavy armor, unbuckling strap, after strap. She’d only managed to remove her pauldrons when the flap of her tent was pushed open. She turned swiftly, reaching for her sword, only to find the fair young queen standing timidly before her sword point.  
  
“Your Grace!” Brienne exclaimed, dropping to one knee. “Forgive me. I thought perhaps-”  
  
“Not to worry Brienne.” Margaery smiled sweetly down at the muscular woman, her large doe eyes sweeping over her. “Please rise.” Brienne did as she was asked, towering over the girl.  
  
“How might I serve you, your Grace?” Margaery flipped her long brown hair over her shoulder.  
  
“I merely came to congratulate you on your victory today.” Brienne furrowed her brow. It seemed odd for the queen to congratulate her personally on throwing the queen’s own brother into the mud.  
  
“I- Thank you your Gr-”  
  
“Please call me Margaery.” Brienne blinked.  
  
“Um… thank you, Margaery.” the name seemed strange on her tongue. “Your brother fought well.” The queen smiled.  
  
“He did. But I must admit, I was glad to see you win.” Brienne’s heart skipped a beat.  
  
“Your- Margaery?” The girl chuckled.  
  
“It was refreshing to see a woman in the fight.” Brienne blushed. _Hardly a woman…_ “Have I disturbed you?” Her eyes found the queen’s feet.  
  
“In truth your Grace-”  
  
“Margaery,” the girl corrected.  
  
“Margaery,” she murmured awkwardly. “I was merely removing my armor.” The girl bent her knees, and her face appeared in Brienne’s line of sight, her wide eyes peering up at the lady warrior.  
  
“Might I assist you?” Brienne opened her mouth and closed it again, unable to form words. Margaery smiled sweetly. “Here,” she reached up to touch Brienne’s shoulder. “Sit.” Brienne bit her lip, gappling with the command. This slight girl was the queen, and also married to the man that Brienne loved from afar. Something did not seem proper about the situation, but Brienne couldn’t quite pinpoint what. In the end, she allowed the girl to lead her back to the bedroll, and sat, slightly slumped over, so Margaery could get at the buckles of her arm harness. When she reached her vambrace Margery struggled with the straps. Brienne reached over and tried to help.  
  
“Here, you just have to tug a bit there,” her fingers brushed the queen’s and she withdrew her hand quickly, looking away. Margaery smiled.  
  
“It’s alright Brienne.” She tensed as she felt Margaery’s fingers brush her hand. Her delicate fingers curled around Brienne’s manish ones. She looked anywhere but at the queen. Her eyes found the rainbow cloak, hung across the tent, and she suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of guilt. This was Renly’s wife. Her king… her love. But what was wrong in Margaery holding Brienne’s hand? The girl was merely seeking… what? Friendship? Companionship? The girl, sensing Brienne’s discomfort released her hand and resumed her task of removing her armor, her nimble fingers working at a remarkable speed at each strap. Soon she was tugging the cuirass away from Brienne’s torso. The slight girl had to actually stand beside the bedroll in order to heave the heavy breastplate away. Brienne felt suddenly naked without the armor. She crossed her arms over her dirty, woolen tunic. Margaery dropped to her knees in her silk gown before Brienne, beginning to work on the straps on her greaves. The maid of Tarth tilted her head, considering the girl before her.  
  
“You seem quite practiced in removing armor.” Suddenly her face reddened, realizing she must have removed Renly’s armor before. Probably removed more…  
  
“I used to help my brother,” Margaery replied, smiling up at the older girl.  
  
“Oh,” whispered Brienne simply, her eyes straying from the queen again. Margaery’s smile wavered slightly, troubled by Brienne’s aloofness.  
  
“Do you get very lonely Brienne?” The abrupt question startled Brienne. Her blue eyes shifted back to the queen, kneeling at her feet.  
  
“I- I’ve never really thought about it.” Margaery began to push herself back up. Brienne shot to her feet to help her queen. She took her hand, but ordered Brienne to sit back down. She obeyed, vaguely aware of Margaery’s hand still in hers.  
  
“But do you?” The queen stood before the champion, her bright eyes full of pity, a look Brienne was not unfamiliar with. She looked away uncomfortably.  
“I… yes… sometimes… but I have been alone much of my life. Solitude can be both a blessing and a curse I suppose.” Margaery nodded slowly, then her hand shot out, finding Brienne’s collar.  
  
“You’re bleeding,” she touched the cut gently. Brienne grimaced.  
  
“It’s just a scratch your Grace. The armor sometimes chafes.” Margaery wasn’t listening. She turned and found just what her eyes had been seeking. In the corner of the tent was a modest wash basin. She scurried over to it and found a rag beside it. Brienne didn’t stop her, only watched her curiously. She knelt beside the basin, wringing the clean rag, the water dripping over her gown and down her arms, before she stood and returned to Brienne’s side. Margaery seated herself beside Brienne on the bedroll and began to dab at the inferior wound lightly. Brienne studied her. Margaery was younger than her, but only slightly. Her brown hair cascaded down her back in soft ringlets. A few of these delicate curls framed her heart shaped face. She was so beautiful. Brienne looked down at her large, blistered hands. Ugly, red and mannish, clasped over her thick legs. She set her jaw. Margaery noted the other girl’s discomfort.  
  
“Does it hurt?” she asked, withdrawing her hand slightly. Brienne blinked.  
  
“I- No…” Margaery nodded and continued cleaning the minor wound. Then the rag was at Brienne’s cheek, cleaning the mud and grime from her face. Her hand found the queen’s tiny wrist.  
“That’s not necessary your Grace.” The girl only smiled.  
“I’m glad to Brienne. Please?” Brienne bit her lip, but released the queen’s wrist. Each stroke was feather light, as if she was afraid of damaging Brienne’s face, like she was something delicate, something girlish, like the queen herself. There was something hypnotic in Margaery’s touch. Brienne relaxed slightly, allowing her eyes to fall to her lap once more, and then close. After a while Margaery’s fingers came to stroke Brienne’s cheek. “There,” she whispered. “I knew you were somewhere under there.” Brienne smiled slightly. The queen studied her giantess companion for a moment, her brow furrowing. Suddenly she was tugging at her own brown locks, withdrawing a jeweled hair comb. She touched Brienne’s mess of yellow hair lightly, before beginning to rake at it with her comb.  
  
“Your Grace, you’ll ruin your comb-”  
  
“I have others. And really Brienne, do call me Margaery.” Knowing the argument would not hold further, Brienne slumped her shoulders and allowed the girl to tear away at her straw-colored nest. After sitting for a while, with the Margaery pulling at her hair, Brienne grew stiff. She pulled her legs up to her chest and allowed her chin to fall to her knees. Margaery smiled and continued pulling at the knots. After a while her hair became smooth. Most of the knots had been worked away. The comb was replaced by Margaery’s fingers, lightly stroking the blonde locks, soft and limp. Brienne’s eyes fluttered closed sleepily. The queen’s fingers twirled and twisted the soft short hair. Brienne let out a sigh of contentment. Margaery’s other arm wound around Brienne’s shoulder, holding the older girl to her. She only tensed for a moment, before allowing herself to melt into the queen’s side. Margaery’s lips curled into a sad smile.  
  
“Brienne?” she murmured softly, her warm, sweet breath tickling Brienne’s neck.  
  
“Yes… Margaery?” The name seemed almost foreign. Brienne turned her head slightly, to look down at the girl, whose head rested on her broad shoulder, her long brown hair grazing Brienne’s tunic sleeve.  
  
“Do you ever… feel a longing?” Brienne’s brow furrowed.  
  
“A longing?” Margaery tilted her chin up, her eyes finding Brienne’s.  
  
“For affection? A lover’s touch?” The hand on Brienne’s shoulder fell, spidering down her muscular arm. Brienne’s flesh prickled, as if a chill had overcome her. “Because I do.” Margaery’s lips brushed against her neck, her breath ghosting over Brienne’s freckled throat, trailing upward, meeting her cheek and pressing a chaste kiss there. Her breath hitched and Brienne pulled away, her eyes were wide with fear and confusion as they swept over the queen; Renly’s queen.  
  
“Your Grace- I- This is- This is treasonous. You have King Renly and-”  
  
“And King Renly has his own pleasures,” she finished. “I’ve been watching you Brienne. I see how you look at him, but he does not want you.” Brienne flushed scarlet.  
  
“I didn’t-”  
  
“Nor does not want me.” Brienne’s brow furrowed.  
  
“What are you-” Margaery smirked.  
  
“Surly you are not blind to the rumors.” Brienne bit her lip.  
  
“They are vile rumors, and rumors only, spread to-”  
  
“Darling Brienne,” she reached out and brushed a lock of hair from Brienne’s face. “So innocent…” Her small hand cupped Brienne’s cheek. “I only wish to make you happy. We only have so much time in this world. Let us live while we’re young.” Brienne swallowed hard.  
  
“You could… have any man you wished. You’re beautiful. Why-”  
  
“Because I do not want a man.” Margaery leaned forward, practically in Brienne’s lap. “I want you Brienne.” Her fingers traced Brienne’s jaw, then trailed over her plump, trembling lips.  
  
“I know you probably do not feel the same of me… I also know that you’ve probably never even been kissed, even by a man, but Brienne,” she pulled her chin up, so that their eyes met. “I will not do anything you do not wish of me. If you ask me to leave now I will do so without question.” Brienne’s breath wavered, her brilliant blue eyes searching the young queen’s. “But if you wish for attention… a woman’s touch… you need only reach out and take it.” Her lips were so close to her, soft and pink and perfect. Brienne’s eyes swept over Margaery, considering her. A girl- no, a woman, of such divine beauty, asking, pleading for her affection.  
  
“Why me?” she whispered, inclining her head slightly. Margaery blinked up at her.  
  
“Because, darling Brienne, you are sweet, and strong, and kind,” she paused a moment, considering the older girl. “And beautiful.” Brienne’s gaze dropped.  
  
“You needn’t lie to-”  
  
“It’s not a lie.” She was suddenly stern. “Look at me Brienne.” Her gaze lifted once more. A smile flickered over the queen’s lips. “You are beautiful. Perhaps you do not possess the delicate beauty of a fabled maid, but you are beautiful.” She ran her fingers through Brienne’s short blonde hair and rested her forearms on her shoulders. “You have a kind of beauty that I think many men are blind to. They do not realize how difficult a world it is to be born as a woman, but I can see your beauty Brienne. I see that under that armor you are just as delicate as the rest of us. You are soft, and pale, and sweet.” She leaned in once more, her forehead resting against Brienne’s. “And you are indeed beautiful.” Brienne did not know what to say. Never before had anyone offered such kind words to her. So rather than offering more words to her queen, she instead leaned forward and gave her what she had been waiting for since she’d entered the tent. Slowly, and unsurely, Brienne’s lips pressed against Margaery’s. She could feel the queen’s smile against her.


	2. Chapter 2

Brienne closed her eyes, half-wishing the lips working against her own belonged to Renly. She tried to imagine him, holding her like this, cupping her cheek, fingers in her hair, but the touch was too gentle, too delicate. The lips were fuller, sweet, and soft. Brienne’s hands still rested awkwardly in her lap, unsure what to do with them, unsure if more contact would initiate a further advance… unsure if she wished for a further advance. A fire had sparked in her core, the flames licked outward, stretching through her limbs, straight to her fingers and toes. Without realizing it Brienne was pulling the queen closer, her hands had found their way to her waist, the reaction seeming natural. Suddenly Margaery pulled away, her eyes darkened by passion, searching Brienne’s. A smile twitched at her lips. Brienne’s heart was pounding. Surly the whole camp could hear it, like the beat of an oncoming war drum, waiting for her queen to speak. Realizing her hands were still grasping onto the girl’s tiny waist, she withdrew them, allowing them to come to rest between their bodies.  
  
“Was that…” Brienne lowered her eyes, twisting her long fingers together. “Was that alright?” Margaery chuckled, and stroked Brienne’s cheek.  
  
“That was lovely Brienne.” Her lips brushed against Brienne’s forehead. “What would you like?” Margaery’s words tickled against her skin. “Tell me what you want.” She could feel her hot breath against her own flushed face.  
  
“I- I- _Ah…_ ” Brienne lost her train of thought as Margaery nipped at her ear, finding a spot just below it, soft and tender. The queen pressed against her, feeling warm through her silken gown. Brienne suddenly realized she was holding her there. Her hands had moved of their own accord, one on the small of Margaery’s back, the other wound in her long brown hair. The queen clutched onto her in return, a hand at the back of Brienne’s neck, the other encircling her shoulder. After a moment she pulled away again, finding Brienne’s now hazy gaze.  
  
“Darling Brienne, what do you want?” She stroked her cheek affectionately. Brienne bit her lip.  
  
“I- I don’t know your gr-Margaery.” She averted her eyes, suddenly feeling ashamed. _This is wrong. This is my king’s wife… but Renly will never want me… Margaery wants me…_ The queen’s fingers trailed through Brienne’s freshly brushed hair, her eyes studying her, watching as the flush of red crept up from beneath Brienne’s tunic collar, coloring her cheeks.  
  
“Do you want to go on?” She could feel the queen’s gaze, but still she would not look up.  
  
“I…” She twisted her hands. _It’s wrong. Society would call this wrong… but then it seems society would call anything that I do wrong. A woman carrying a sword…_ Her eyes wandered across the room to the rainbow cloak again. _What would Renly say? If what Margaery had said, if the rumors were true… would he even have a right to say- of course he would… he’s married to her._ But what do you want? The question nagged at her from the dark corner of her mind. _This feels… right. It felt so…_ “I think…” She slowly lifted her eyes to find Margaery’s. “Yes,” she whispered. Margaery smiled sweetly and wrapped her arms around Brienne’s neck.  
  
“So,” She tilted her head to the side. “Tell me what you like Brienne.” She continued to wring her hands nervously.  
  
“I… I’ve never…” Magaery pulled back.  
  
“Would you like me to lead?” _She sounds more like she was asking for a dance than…_  
  
“Yes… if you wouldn’t mind.” Brienne offered a timid smile.  
  
“You must tell me if you want to stop, or if something bothers you.” The queen’s gaze was suddenly stern. She nodded. Margaery’s arms left Brienne’s shoulders. Her fingers suddenly busy at her bodice. Brienne, alarmed, grabbed the girl’s hands.  
  
“I’m not sure… if I’m ready for-” Margaery smiled.  
  
“Calm yourself dear Brienne. I’m merely removing the outer gown. I’m wearing a shift.” Brienne nodded jerkily, before slowly releasing Margaery’s hands so they could resume the process. She stood after a moment, pulling the garment over her head. As the silk gown fell away Brienne began to feel more self-conscious. Every inch of skin that was revealed was a reminder of how mannish and awkward Brienne’s own body was. Margaery settled herself beside her on the bedroll once more. The older girl wrapped her arms around herself protectively. Margaery just smiled sweetly and stroked her hair. “Brienne, do you trust me?” Brienne bit her lip, but nodded. With that Margaery took the hem of Brienne’s tunic and began to work it upward.  
  
“Wait,” Brienne gasped suddenly, grabbing Margaery’s forearms. “I… I’m not sure if…”  
  
“Darling,” Margaery kissed her cheek. “It’s alright. You have a shirt on beneath your tunic, yes?”  
  
“Yes…”  
  
“Come now, you’ll be more comfortable.” Stiffly, Brienne uncrossed her arms and allowed Margaery to work the garment over her head.  
  
“There,” whispered Margaery once her companion was freed. “That’s better isn’t it?” Brienne felt rather exposed in only her undershirt. It was just a light, linen thing, once white but now dirtied by spatters of dried blood and grime, and sleeveless. Her shoulders tensed slightly, but Margaery took hold of her freckled, muscular arms, and lightly pushed her back onto the bedroll, before straddling her. Then her mouth was on Brienne’s, soft at first, tentative, but the kiss grew more forceful. Lips and tongue working hard against hers. She emitted an involuntary moan into the queen’s mouth. Margaery giggled and moved from Brienne’s lips, to her neck. Her hands moved to her waist, pulling at the thin linen shirt. Brienne’s hands found Margaery’s hips. They rested there, unsure where to go, or where they would be permitted. She shuddered as the queen’s hands slipped beneath her shirt, trailing up her abdomen. Margaery grinned up at her, a playful glint to her eye.  
  
“Is my lady ticklish?” Brienne bit back a smile.  
  
“No…” Margaery quirked her brow and traced her fingers over a tender area of Brienne’s waist, causing her to writhe and giggle, almost girlishly against her.  
  
“I do believe your body betrays you.” Brienne only blushed in way of reply. Margaery’s lips ghosted down Brienne’s body, and found that same tender spot at her waist. Pushing the shirt up, she pressed soft kisses to her belly. Brienne’s hand found the queen’s cheek, She stroked it gently with a finger.  
  
“You’re so beautiful,” she murmured. “So, so beautiful.” Margaery took her hand, pressing her palm to her lips. “I wish I could be beautiful like you.” Her voice cracked as she uttered the last word, her vision blurred as the tears formed in her eyes. She felt Magaery’s weight lift from her, as she moved to lay beside Brienne on the bedroll. “I’m sorry,” she tried to whisper. She sniffed and began to sit up, but Margaery took hold of her shoulder and pushed her down once more.  
  
“Hush now,” she wiped a tear from her cheek. “You are beautiful, darling Brienne.”  
  
“But you’re… dainty… and slim… shapely…” She flushed. “And I’m large, and manly, clumsy-”  
  
“You stop that this instant.” Margaery’s hold tightened on her shoulder. Brienne only emitted a shuddering sob. The queen’s face softened and she wrapped her arms around her shattered warrior, murmuring soothing words into her thin, blonde hair. As she waited for her tears to subside she stroked her hair soothingly. Brienne wrapped her arms around the small queen, leaning her head against the cushion of her bosom.  
  
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, once her tears had dried. Margaery smiled wearily.  
  
“It’s alright, Brienne.” She shifted to look down at her. “Would you like me to stay?” Brienne contemplated the offer a moment, before nodding. Margaery settled back into the bedroll, encircling her companion’s head with her arm, and pressed a kiss to her hair. “Darling Brienne,” she sighed sleepily. “You must always trust in me.” Brienne smiled against the queen’s neck and pressed a kiss to her soft skin.  
  
“I will… sweet Margaery.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An exchange between Margaery and Loras about the Maid of Tarth.

“Loras, won’t you talk to me?” Margaery’s brother stormed past her, pacing the room. 

“I can’t believe this!” He threw up his hands, his face red with rage. 

“What sweet brother?” She tried to grab his arm as he passed, but he pulled away. 

“She deserves to rot in the darkest cell in King’s Landing.” He pulled at his hair. 

“Who for goodness sake?” He turned to his sister, a mad glint in his eye.

“That woman! Brienne of Tarth.” He flopped down onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling, still fuming. Margaery’s breath hitched. _Brienne? Here in King’s Landing?_

“Where are they keeping her?” She asked, carefully seating herself on the edge of the mattress. Loras rubbed his face.

“The East wing,” he mumbled through his fingers.

“The tower cells?”

“Hardly a cell,” he scoffed. She lightly stroked his hair, trying to calm him. 

“Was she… in good health?” He turned his head, looking absolutely appalled. 

“ _In good health?_ ” he spat, grabbing his sister’s wrist. “How could you ask about her _health_? She should be dead. She killed _him_.” She bit her lip.

“Loras, we have had this conversation. You know that I don’t believe-”

“Ask her then.” He threw her hand aside and sat up.

“What?” 

“Go to her. Ask her if she did it. Make her tell you how she did it.”

“Loras, you saw his armor, Brienne is strong, but not strong enough to-”

“ _Ask her_ ,” he hissed. 

“Fine!” Margaery sprang to her feet, wrenching her wrist from his grasp. “I will. And when she tells me she did not, as I suspect, I would like you to ask her for an apology.”

“An _apology_?” He sputtered, also standing. “An apology for killing _your_ husband and my…” he broke off and turned away. 

“And your lover,” she finished. “Loras, I know it’s hard for you, it’s hard for me as well, but there is no way Brienne could have-”

“I repeat,” he whispered harshly, not looking at his sister, “Ask her.” She set her jaw and exhaled slowly, trying to calm herself. 

“Very well. The first tower?” She took a few steps towards the door. 

“Yes,” he whispered, clutching a chair for support. “And speak carefully sister, for fear of the Spider’s birds.” She furrowed her brow at this, her hand on the door handle.

“What would I have to hide from them?” Loras turned his head slightly, watching her out of the corner of his eye. 

“I know you have an attachment to her. Just… take caution. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you… or your plans to marry.” Her gaze softened, and she almost smiled. 

“Thank you for your concern, brother.” She approached him carefully and took his hand in her own, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“You know, I too seek only justice in his murder.” He returned her touch with a slight squeeze of his fingers. 

“Now go.” It was an order, but it sounded weak, almost broken upon his lips. Margaery released his hand, returning to the door. She eased it open and glanced over her shoulder at her brother one last time, before setting out to find the Maid of Tarth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize this is a shorter chapter, but I promise the next one will be longer.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margaery visits Brienne in her tower cell, and Brienne finds out that she's not as alone there as she may think...

        Brienne jumped at the knock at her chamber door. She’d had no guests, not even Ser Jaime since being locked away, only a maid to serve meals or bring her clean garments. 

        “Enter,” she called, her voice raspy from disuse. There was a click of the lock, and then a creak as the door was pushed open. She jumped up from her seat, to lower herself to one knee. “Your gra-” she stopped herself and stumbled back to her feet awkwardly. “Erm… I believe it is just ‘Lady Margaery’ now.” The girl smiled warmly.

        “Lady Brienne.” After carefully closing the door behind her, she swept forward and took Brienne’s hand for a mere second, before releasing it and moving a finger to her lips in warning. Brienne watched curiously as the girl took a few calculated steps toward the hearth, tapping at a few stones with the toe of her shoe, before returning to Brienne. She pulled her into a fierce hug, using a surprising amount of strength to pull Brienne’s face close to hers. “Speak with caution,” she breathed, “the walls have ears.” Brienne glanced about, flustered as Margaery released her. “It is good to see you well,” Margaery said with a bright smile, as if nothing had happened. Brienne’s eyes swept over the room once more.

        “It is- I am glad to see you well, my lady,” she replied carefully. “I feel I must offer my deepest sympathies.” She clasped her hands before her. Margaery’s smile softened.

        “I believe we both grieve for Renly. He was a good man.” Brienne shuffled her feet.

        “I was… referring to your more recent husband… Joffrey.” Margaery bit her lip.

        “Oh.” Her eyes wandered about the room. “I think you know that I am here to talk about the former though.” Brienne nodded and gestured to a chair.

        “Won’t you sit?” Margaery did sit, but not in the chair. She glided past Brienne and seated herself on the side of Brienne’s bed, motioning for the older girl to join her there. Brienne lowered herself stiffly onto the mattress beside the girl. Margaery only studied her a moment, brushing a stray hair into place. Brienne didn’t react to the girl’s touch, only staring straight ahead at a point on the wall. 

        “I know you didn’t kill him.” Brienne breathed a sigh of relief. “And I don’t blame you for his death either. I just… want to know what happened.” 

        She told her. She told her everything: the shadow, Catelyn convincing her to flee, how she’d cried when his last breath left him… When she’d finished her story she sat slumped over, trying to keep the tears from falling, feeling almost as broken as she had the night it had happened. Margaery wrapped an arm around her broad shoulders.

        “And that is everything?”

        “Everything,” Brienne mumbled halfheartedly. 

        “The whole truth?” That stung a bit. Brienne turned to Margaery, looking her in the eyes.

        “I would  _never_  lie to you, my lady.” This seemed to appease the girl. She nodded and then wrapped her arms around Brienne, pulling her close as she had before.

        “We will speak again soon. I promise.” With that she stood. “Thank you, Lady Brienne.” Brienne rose as well and walked Margery to the tower door. 

        “I um… feel I must thank you for hearing me. I know it mustn’t be easy for you.” Margaery offered her a sweet smile and took her hand briefly. 

        “Sometimes I feel there is nothing more consoling than the truth.” As she withdrew her fingers, Brienne felt the scratch of parchment against her palm. She grasped it before it could flutter to the floor. Margaery winked. “Good day, my lady.”

        As the door closed the door behind Margaery, Brienne unfolded the small paper. On it was scribbled a small note in girlish handwriting.

_Darling Brienne,_

_Don’t change for bed tonight. I will send Loras to fetch you in the wee hours. Burn this note in its entirety._

_Yours always,_

_Margaery_

Brienne read it over twice more before approaching the hearth. She watched as the paper curled in on itself and slowly turned to ash. She then turned to face her room again. Alone once more… or not. She shuffled forward slightly, tapping at the stones of the hearth with her toe as Margaery had, although perhaps not as daintily. One of the stones rocked slightly at her touch. Furrowing her brow, she knelt beside it and pulled at it slightly. It came away easily, revealing a trapdoor, large enough even for her to go through. She peered into the black abyss below, and as her eyes adjusted slightly to the darkness, she could see the first few rungs of a ladder. She reached out and touched it, tempted to see where the tunnel may lead. The metal was warm, where it should have been cool, as if someone had been there just moments ago. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loras spirits Brienne away to a safe place to talk... among other things...

        The bells of the sept were ringing to signal midnight when Loras Tyrell knocked on her door. Brienne rose from her bed as he eased it open. She hadn’t been sleeping, just sitting there looking out at the moonlight bathed city. Loras didn’t speak, but raised a finger to his lips and motioned for her to follow him. She did so without question. As she stepped out of the tower cell she spotted her two guardsmen, apparently asleep on either side of the door. Loras held a torch over his head as he led her down one hall, then another, down a set of stairs and through a passage. Along this passage he stopped at a tapestry and pulled it aside, revealing a hidden passage, with an arched opening tall enough even for Brienne to go through easily. She stepped inside and allowed Loras to pass her to continue leading her to… where ever he was taking her…

        At the end of this passage was a door. Loras pushed it open to reveal another set of stairs that spiraled upwards. She followed him up them to another door. When he opened this one she was faced with another tapestry which he pushed aside to reveal a comfortable looking sitting room.

        “We can speak freely here.” They were the first words he spoke to her tonight. She nodded and shuffled over to a chair. He dropped into the one opposite it and lifted a flagon of wine that had been placed on a table next to them. Pouring two glasses, he pushed one towards Brienne and downed his own. She accepted hers with little hesitation and took a sip. It was sweeter than she’d expected, like honey. “So,” Loras leaned forward and poured himself another glass. “Margaery tells me I should listen to your account of the King’s death.” Brienne didn’t need to ask which king he was referring to. She knew there was only one true king to both of them. 

        Loras clenched his jaw as she recounted all that had happened. When she’d finished he only watched the slowly dying embers of the fire. Brienne awkwardly placed a hand on his forearm. 

        “Ser Loras,” he did not look at her, but neither did he pull away from her touch. “I’m truly sorry. I know he meant more to you than-”

        “He was my whole world, and you know nothing of my loss.” She bit her lip.

        “I loved him too, Loras.”

        “He thought you a fool,” he spat and wrenched his arm away. “But I also see that you did not kill him.” Brienne only nodded stiffly. Loras rose from his seat and downed his third glass of wine. She stood as well. 

        “Will you be returning me to my cell now?” His eyes flicked up to meet hers briefly.

        “No, not yet.” Brienne furrowed her brow.

        “Then wh-” she stopped short as the tapestry was moved aside once again. This time Margaery came through the door. 

        “Loras,” she greeted her brother with a stunning smile. He turned to Brienne one last time and held her gaze. 

        “Lady Brienne… I… am sorry for… for accusing you I suppose. I see now that it could not have been you… Ser Jaime was right.” She blinked.

        “I- Ser Jaime defended me?” Loras smirked.

        “Something like that.” With that he turned to go. “I’ll be back at first light to return her to her cell,” Brienne heard him murmur to his sister as he passed her, and disappeared behind the tapestry. Margaery turned to Brienne, her soft brown eyes glistening in the firelight. 

        “Darling Brienne,” she whispered, before scurrying over to her and enveloping the tall girl in a fierce hug. Brienne emitted a small laugh and awkwardly returned the hug, patting her back lightly. When Margaery finally released her, she guided Brienne back to the set of chairs and poured more wine. Brienne sipped at the sweet wine politely, but was careful not to drink too much. Margaery on the other hand downed her first glass, as Loras had, and poured a second. Rather than sitting in Loras’s vacated chair, Margaery leaned against the arm of Brienne’s seat and lightly stroked her hair. Her heart fluttered at the delicate touch. 

        “I’ve missed you, Brienne.” She smiled sleepily. 

        “I missed you as well, Margaery.” It was a lie, but a white lie. She’d scarcely thought about the girl. Perhaps a few times immediately after fleeing Renly’s camp… but after… Margaery’s lips brushed her forehead. Brienne’s eyes fluttered closed. Between the wine, and her lack of sleep tonight she was feeling rather tired. Her eyes flew open, however, when Margaery settled herself onto her lap. 

        “Do you like your dress? I thought the fabric would look well with your eyes… and the cut… perhaps not a perfect fit… but what can be done…” Margaery tucked a hair behind Brienne’s ear and caressed her cheek.

        “I… Yes, it’s quite…” In truth she hadn’t thought much about the clothes she’d been provided with. She’d only assumed they were some spares that had been hidden away somewhere in the castle… but then what woman was shaped as she was?

        “I know you prefer men’s clothes,” Margaery slid from her lap and knelt beside the chair. “But I thought a dress would be more suited for King’s Landing. I’m afraid the gentry is not familiar with women who fights in men’s armor.” Brienne only nodded absentmindedly. Margaery took her hand and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. Brienne smiled fondly down at the girl and wound her fingers through Margaery’s soft brown hair. She didn’t notice the determined gaze Margaery had locked on her, like a beast stalking its prey. “Dresses are suited for things other than impressing the gentry though,” she whispered, toying with the hem of the silk gown in her free hand. 

        “Oh?” Brienne was sleepily watching the dying embers, feeling at peace for the first time in a long while, when she felt Margaery’s hand gliding up the inner part of her leg. She sat up a little straighter, “Oh- _oooh_ ” she whimpered as the girl’s hand ghosted over her inner thigh. 

        “Tell me,” whispered Margaery, as she pushed the gown up around Brienne’s knees, “Do you still want this, Brienne?” She dropped a light kiss to Brienne’s knee. “Do you still want intimacy?” She pushed the fabric slightly higher. Brienne clutched onto the arms of the chair, her jaw set. She could feel the heat expanding from her core, as it had that evening in the tent, all those months ago. 

        “I-” her eyes locked onto Margaery’s. Dark, dangerous, lustful, “Yes,” she managed to whisper. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rating might go up after this chapter... hehe


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margaery and Brienne become more intimate...

        Margaery’s long brown hair tickled against Brienne’s calf. Her soft hands, gliding up the outer part of Brienne’s thigh as she pressed feather-light kisses to the inner part, traveling dangerously close to her…

        Brienne’s heart pounded as Margaery’s fingers hooked about her smallclothes and slowly tugged them down her legs. She bit her lip to keep it from trembling. Then the girl’s lips were on her again, working their way higher, and higher. Brienne gripped the arms of the chair, her knuckles turned white. When her lips reached the desired destination Brienne released a guttural moan, much to Margaery’s amusement. 

        “Do you like that my dear?” giggled Margaery against Brienne’s pulsating center. Her eyes found Margaery’s through a haze of desire. 

        “Yes,” she managed in a shuddering whisper. Margaery smiled playfully up at her companion. She wrapped an arm around one of her muscular legs and pressed another kiss to Brienne’s womanhood, causing her to emit a small cry, almost like a trapped animal. Then Margaery’s lips were on her once more. She bucked slightly, her skin aflame. Brienne’s head fell back, exposing her long, pale neck to the dancing light of the fire. Margaery longed to kiss her there too… but that would come later. Now she set to the task at hand. 

        Finding her nub, Margaery moved her mouth there, sucking, teasing it. Brienne’s labored breath, and wanton moans urged her on. Replacing her mouth with her nimble fingers, Margaery moved instead to Brienne’s entrance, tasting her. 

        “Jaime!” The name came out as a strangled cry. Margaery glanced up, surprised. What little of Brienne’s chest that was exposed in her gown was beet red, the flush had grown up to her neck and cheeks. She seemed to be struggling with herself, physically, emotionally, her incredibly blue eyes were wide and brimmed with tears. She seemed to be choking, trying to catch her breath, the realization of what she’d cried frightening her. Margaery tried to offer her a sympathetic look, but it was hard for her too. Brienne’s exclamation had wounded her slightly.

        “It’s alright, Brienne,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to the her inner thigh. Brienne only looked stunned. She shook her head jerkily, not looking at Margaery. “You love him. Don’t you?” Brienne shakily raised a hand to her mouth. The younger girl sighed and pushed herself to her feet. “Hush now. It’s alright.” She settled herself onto Brienne’s lap as she had before, and kissed her forehead. “I’m not surprised you know.” Brienne’s eyes shifted to Margaery’s, filled with confusion.

        “Is it that obvious?” she choked. Margaery couldn’t help but smile. She traced her fingers through Brienne’s hair.

        “I could tell by the way your eyes lit up when my brother mentioned him.” Brienne went, if possible, more red. She lowered her head. 

        “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her large hands finding one of Margaery’s slender ones. The girl only smiled and caressed her cheek. 

        “Don’t apologize my dear.” Brienne just nodded morosely. Margaery stood and tugged on Brienne’s hand. “Come, you must be tired.” Brienne glanced up, looking rather like a wounded dog. 

        “You don’t want me to go?” Brienne’s voice was soft. Margaery furrowed her brow. 

        “Why would I want that? Because you called his name rather than mine?” Brienne bit her lip and lowered her eyes. Margaery took her chin and urged her to look up. “My darling, I knew going into this that you may never love me, that you may never return my affections. I only wish to make you happy.” She allowed this to sink in a moment, before tugging on Brienne’s hand once more. “Come now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was a short chapter, but I think the next will probably be longer...


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margaery and Brienne talk love... hints of Jaime/Brienne overtones...

        Margaery led Brienne to another tapestry that hung beside the fireplace, to reveal a smaller hidden chamber. This one was modestly furnished, containing a bed, a chair, and washbasin. Brienne ducked so her head wouldn’t hit the arched door frame as she entered. Standing beside the bed, Margaery released Brienne’s hand and began tugging at the bodice of her silken gown. Brienne just sat awkwardly on the edge of the mattress, watching as the girl let her gown pool about her feet before gathering it in her arms and dropping it onto the chair in the corner of the room. Then she returned to Brienne, sitting beside her on the bed. She touched her hair again, smoothing it back. 

        “Are you alright, Brienne?” She nodded slowly, her mind elsewhere.  _Is it true? Am I really in love with the Kingslayer?_ She imagined his green eyes glittering up at her through the darkness rather than Margaery’s brown ones, his luscious golden hair brushing against her thigh… “Brienne?” Margaery’s voice drew her back from her wonderings. 

        “Yes?” She turned to meet Margaery’s gaze. She could see the hurt there, as she had seen it earlier when she’d cried his name. She was so young… so perfect. The girl’s eyes dropped down to her lap.

        “Why don’t we get you ready for bed…” She reached for the strings of Brienne’s bodice and began tugging at the tie. Brienne just watched her as she worked away at the strings, Margaery’s focus too involved. Slowly, she reached up and found the girl’s hand, halfway through her work. 

        “Margaery, can I ask you something?” A smile tugged at Margaery’s lips at the sound of her name. Her eyes found Brienne’s again.

        “Of course, my darling.” Brienne tilted her head to the side, studying her companion, trying to find a way to word her question. 

        “How…” she began hesitantly, “How do you know… when you’re in love with someone?” The girl blinked, and lowered her head. 

        “I’m not sure… I suppose it would be different for everyone.” Brienne bit her lip. She knew she’d wounded the girl. Slowly, she reached out, with trembling fingers, and touched her cheek, encouraging the girl to meet her gaze. 

        “How do  _you_  know then?” She allowed her thumb to lightly trace Margaery’s jawline. She blinked up at her with her large brown eyes.

        “When my heart flutters when I see them,” Margaery began, breathlessly, “When my heart stops at the sound of their name… and when I feel completely lost… but at the same time found, when I look into their eyes.” She reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind Brienne’s ear. “You have the most amazing eyes, Brienne.” Her heart was in her mouth. For someone as well trained in combat as she was, she felt rather defenceless at this moment. 

        “Do you love me, Margaery?” she whispered, hoping she sounded braver than she felt.

        “More than anyone in the world.” A wave of guilt came crashing down over Brienne.  _I could never love her, as she loves me._  She bit her lip and slowly lowered her hand, allowing it to flop dismally back into her lap. Margaery wrung her hands and turned away from Brienne. “As I said earlier… I knew, going into this that you couldn’t return my affections… but I thought-- or rather I’d  _hoped_ that perhaps… if I could just have you… for a night, a few hours… that my heart might be satisfied.” Brienne watched as a tear fell to Margaery’s lap. “I see now that I was a fool for thinking that-” 

_One night,_ thought Brienne,  _All she wanted was one night… couldn’t I have granted her that? Perhaps I still can…_ Reaching out, she gently covered Margaery’s hands with one of her own. 

        “Margaery,” she whispered, stroking her soft, brown ringlets. The girl sniffled, but slowly turned to Brienne once more. She wet her lips. “There is still time, if this is still what you want.” Margaery didn’t reply, only looked at her curiously, her lips parted slightly. Heart pounding, Brienne leaned forward, her lips mere inches from hers now. “Is this what you want, sweet Margaery?”  _Gods help me if she says no now._  Brienne felt as if she were waiting an eternity, before the girl’s eyes lit up slightly, a spark of hope igniting her whole face. She gave a small nod. Moving her hand to Margaery’s cheek, Brienne pulled her closer, and pressed a clumsy kiss to her lips. She pulled away too quickly and Margaery leaned in, wanting for more. 

        “Sorry,” murmured Brienne, “I don’t really know what I’m doing.” Margaery touched the hand that was still at her cheek. 

        “It’s alright, Brienne, You don’t have to-”

        “No, I-” She bit her lip. “I  _want_ to. Let me do this… for you.” Margaery smiled.

        “Very well,” she moved slightly closer to Brienne, still holding her hand to her cheek. “Then… try again… but relax. Alright?” 

She nodded, and closed her eyes a moment, letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. The whole situation was strange.  _What do I do? What will she like?_ She tried to reason it out as she leaned forward once more.  _What will she like… What would a woman like?_ Her mouth was on Margaery’s once more. She responded eagerly, drawing Brienne closer, and winding an arm about her shoulder.  _What would a man do?_

Her tongue found Margaery’s, hot, and fast, and wanton. Margaery moaned into her mouth as Brienne’s hand drifted to her shoulder and pushed her down onto the mattress.  _What would Jaime do?_ Her lips moved from Margaery’s lips to her jawline. She tasted sweet, and salty, all at once. Her tongue flicked along her smooth, perfect skin. Margaery tugged at her gown, nearly willing it off of her. Brienne oblige and pulled the garment over her head, ruffling her fine, blonde hair.  _What would Jaime do?_ _If I were beautiful what would Jaime do?_ She ran her hand up Margaery’s leg, finding the hem of her shift. The girl sat up slightly, so Brienne could properly take the thing off, and then pushed herself up, into the pillows. Brienne crawled across the coverings after her, before pinning her into the cushions. She moaned against her once more, and Brienne’s lips traveled downwards finding Magaery’s collarbone, sucking on it, drawing a moan from her companion. Her hands traveled upward, tracing her side and finding a breast. She squeezed it gently, drawing another moan from the girl.

“Oh… Brienne,” she whispered, clawing at her back. She hissed as her nails dug into the soft flesh. Her lips traveled further south, finding the swell of her other breast, and kissing her there. Then further, and further south, taking a nipple in her mouth, and rolling her tongue over it. “Gods,” gasped Margaery, pulling at her hair.  _But a man has something I do not. Something they’ve lorded over me my entire life._ Unwillingly her minds drifted to the baths at Harrenhal.  _Jaime has something I do not…_ Brienne allowed her hand to glide down Margaery’s other side, finding her leg once more. She propped it up, then the other, all the while distracting Margaery with her mouth. Her fingers found the place between her legs, soft and wet, covered in wiry hair, so different from that on her scalp. She writhed against her as her fingers found her taut little nub. 

Brienne glanced up, watching Margaery’s face as it contorted in pleasure, her eyes wide in… was it surprise? Brienne was a bit surprised with herself. Perhaps it was the drink that made her so willing, or maybe it was only the sadness she’d caused in Margaery’s eyes, and the need to replace it with something else. Hovering over her now, she found those eyes again, asking their permission as her fingers found her entrance. 

“Yes?” Margaery’s eyes locked on hers. 

“Yes,” she all but cried, her eyes dark with pleasure. Gently, Brienne slipped a finger inside her hot, wet, womanhood, then another. Margaery made a strange noise, like she was choking, before another moan escaped her. Brienne allowed herself a small smile, warm with the knowledge that she’d caused Margaery this small bit of happiness.  _What would a man do?_ Brienne pumped her fingers in and out, hoping, beyond hope she was doing this right. Margaery’s wanton crys urging her onward. Her lips found Margaery’s once more, stifling her slightly, their tongues connecting, sparring with one another, as she brought her to her brink. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might through one of two more chapters on here... we'll see...
> 
> (Also, please let me know how this chapter came out, or if there are any typos... I may or may not have been drinking while writing this and the end got a little blurry...)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter...

Margaery’s breath was warm and sweet against Brienne’s neck. She carefully smoothed a brown curl from her maiden’s face, and pressed her lips to her forehead. She stirred and groaned sleepily. A smile ghosted over Brienne’s lips as Margaery raised herself up on her elbows, stretching rather like a cat, before curling up by Brienne’s side once more, her arms wound around Brienne’s middle, and her cheek pressed to her meager chest. Brienne stroked her arm, trailing her long fingers down to meet her hand. 

“Don’t leave me, Brienne,” she whispered against her skin. Brienne brought Margaery’s hand up and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. 

“I won’t, if you don’t want me to,” she murmured tiredly. Margaery sighed and propped herself up on her elbows once more, studying Brienne. 

        “But you must.” Brienne stroked Margaery’s cheek, soft and unblemished. Margaery caught her hand and pressed her palm to her lips. “You must,” she whispered again, against her. 

        “Why?” She furrowed her brow.  _Please don’t tell me to go now… not after-_

        “The Stark girls. You told me you swore an oath to find them.” Maraery leaned in and kissed her brow. 

        “How am I to do that when imprisoned here? Surely we can be together until I’m released.” She mumbled against her neck. Margaery pulled away once more, and smoothed Brienne’s hair. 

        “Don’t you understand why I had Loras question you? On the morrow you’ll be freed. He’ll see that your name is cleared.” Brienne blinked. 

        “Will I really be free?” she asked, unable to truly believe it. Margaery nodded, a sad smile tugging at her lips. She pushed herself up, as if ready to move away, but Brienne wrapped an arm about her slender waist and pulled her near again, pressing the girl to her. “You’re unhappy,” she whispered into her hair, breathing in her flowery scent. 

        “I just wish we had more time,” Margaery squeaked, a tear sliding down her cheek. Brienne pulled her face to her and pressed her lips to Margaery’s. “No more of that,” she mumbled against her lips. Margaery gave her a small smile. Brienne’s eyes bore into hers. 

“Is this truly all the time we have?” Margaery nodded, pursing her lips together trying to keep the tears from escaping. “Then let us make the most of it.” Brienne pressed another kiss to her lips, this time Margaery’s mouth opened to her, hungry for her. 

When they finally broke apart, breathless, Margaery wound her fingers through Brienne’s short hair, and searched her impossibly blue eyes. 

“Brienne, will you promise me something?” she whispered. 

“Anything,” Brienne replied, resting her forearms on Margaery’s bare shoulders. 

“When next we meet… will you kiss me like that again? Even if we’re both old and withered?” Brienne bit her lip.  _And if I shouldn’t return?_

“The next time I see you,” she swore, leaning her forehead against Margaery’s, her eyes not leaving the girl’s for a moment.  “Whether it be this life… or the next.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ending on a bit of a bittersweet note...  
> I hope you enjoyed! Thank you to everyone who left kudos and comments. They mean a lot! :)


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